To Serve
by IctCowgrrl
Summary: A morning in the life of an attorney and her detective.  AO of course.


**I decided to add this one-shot to my list of stories, which now is up to 2! I wrote this one a couple of years ago and it is written from Alex's POV. I hope you enjoy it and please review. **

**Disclaimer: They still belong to Dick Wolf and NBC, I've just having some fun and making no money from it. **

* * *

><p>I've watched you get ready for work hundreds of times in the years we have known each other, but today, today something feels different. I can't put my finger on it, but I don't want to let you leave my side. However, I know I can't protect you, you don't allow it. You won't let anyone protect you, least of all me.<p>

I hand you a cup of coffee and some toast made with that cinnamon and raisin bread you love so much. You give me a smile and sip your coffee, then take a bite of the bread.

"Perfect," your voice nearly purrs.

I smile slightly and turn away, I don't want you to see the worry that I know must be reflected in my eyes. It's irrational I know, but I can't help it. I do worry about you, everyday, only I try to hide it, even from myself.

You finish your breakfast and go into our bedroom. I follow a few minutes later and stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame, just watching you. You don't notice me there as you are lacing up your boots, so I watch you finish getting ready for your work day.

You finish with your boots and walk to our dresser, pulling your badge from the top drawer and hook it to your belt. Then you casually unlock the gun safe that's kept on top of the dresser and remove your gun. A 9 mm Glock you once told me. I feel my body tense as you quickly examine it and slip it into the holster before securing the holster to your belt.

You wear it snug against your waist and it looks as if it is a part of you. In a way, it is a part of you, just as is your badge. You're a police officer, it's not only what you do, it is who you are. I accepted that the moment I met you, but sometimes, like now, I wish you were a bank teller, a school teacher or anything else where you would be safer. However, I know you wouldn't be the same Olivia Benson I fell in love with if you were any of those other things.

You are a police officer, a servant of the people. That's what you do and that's who you are. I accept that because I love you. Still, I sometimes hate it.

I hate the days you come home beaten down mentally because of the horrific things you see on your job day in and day out. I deal with the same cases, but not like you do. You see the victims, dead or alive, right after their lives have been changed in brutal, horrible ways.

I hate the days you come home physically beaten after you've arrested some perp who tried to take you on because you are a woman. They think because you are a woman, a beautiful woman, you're not tough enough physically to arrest them. However, you prove them wrong time after time, but it almost always leaves bumps, bruises and cuts.

I hate the days you come home and your emotions are so raw, so intense that they sometimes scare me. I'm not scared for myself, I know you would never hurt me, but I am scared for you. You stuff your emotions down so much that sometimes they explode in fits of rage, directed mostly at yourself. You carry too much guilt and too much responsibility. You rarely share your burdens and I fear it will someday break you.

I've watched you rage to a point of exhaustion and I've held you after you've crumbled in ragged sobs. I wish I could share your pain, but you won't let anyone else take it on. You protect everyone else, why can't we protect you? You are so stubborn sometimes and all I can do is be there when you need me to be, that's all you'll allow. During those times, I pray that it is enough.

"Hey," your soft voice breaks into my thoughts and I look up to see your warm brown eyes watching me.

I reach out and play with the ends of your hair, offering what I know is a weak smile.

"Hey yourself."

You don't say anything else. You cup my cheek briefly, then pull me into a hug.

I grasped onto you tightly, not wanting to let go. Our bodies are pressed tightly together, a sensation I usually love, but when I feel your gun press into my hip, I tense.

I can't help but think that one day a bullet could take you away from me. One bullet could shatter our world…again. It took only one bullet to rip our world apart before and it could happen again. Only the next time, there may be no going back. The next time, I could be accepting a folded flag and watching your casket being lowered into the ground. I feel my eyes welling with tears and I bury my face into your neck, inhaling your scent.

"It'll be ok. I'm right here." Your words try to gently reassure me. It still amazes me how well you know me and seem to always know what I am thinking.

"I love you, so much Liv. Be careful…please." I give her one last squeeze before I reluctantly drop my arms.

"Always," you give me that cocky, crooked grin before you gently kiss my lips. "Don't forget, we're meeting Kathy and Elliott for dinner tonight. I'll see you tonight."

I brush the errant tears from my cheeks and take a deep cleansing breath as you slip on your black leather jacket. I offer you a stronger smile and tug at the lapels of the jacket, pulling you in for another, more heated, kiss.

It's my turn to reassure you. I don't want you going to work worrying about me. You need to keep your focus on your job. I straighten my spine and bolster my courage, shooing away any signs of melancholy. I raise my brow and look at you through my black framed glasses.

"You're damn right you will."


End file.
